


Deck the Halls

by Juliette1713



Category: Northern Exposure
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-23
Updated: 2020-12-23
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:55:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28254258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Juliette1713/pseuds/Juliette1713
Summary: Absolutely vapid little bit of Christmastime fluff, somewhere in December in season 2
Relationships: Joel Fleischman/Maggie O'Connell
Comments: 4
Kudos: 5





	Deck the Halls

"What?"

He was grinning at her. It was unbelievably irritating. So was him not saying anything while doing it. So was _he_ , while she was on the topic of all things irritating. On an otherwise great night, too.

Maggie loved Christmas. She especially loved getting everything over with in Michigan a whole day early and, for once, being able to be here in Cicely on Christmas eve. Holling and Shelly had decked the Brick out with lights and decorations and candles and festive plants and the whole works. Raven ornaments adorned the bar, poinsettias and holly plants were hoisted high atop the support columns that dotted the room, and the antlers on the buck's head above the bar had green, red, and gold ornaments dangling from them. A samovar of hot cocoa sat ever at the ready in the back, and she'd just warmed her mug up with a refill she'd downed quickly. The juke box and pool table were both wrapped in a festive fringe of silver tinsel, and Christmas music played softly above the din of happy conversation. It was just perfect. Only now, this idiot was grinning at her. And still silent.

"No, really, Fleischman - _what_? You're staring. And smiling at me. And not talking. I didn't even think you _had_ a mute button. What gives?"

He said nothing, but his eyes had a playful, happy twinkle she rarely saw. Was he happy? _Him_? And why did he have to do it around her? No, it had to be something else.

"Aw, come _on_ , Fleischman. It's Christmas eve. Can't ya - just _once_ , for one night - be human? Friendly, sociable, a little less morose?"

"Who's being morose?" He broke his silence at last, still smiling at her. The room was packed with people and very warm; he'd even shed his ever-present winter parka for once and managed to look cozy and downright normal in a dark blue sweater and slacks. He might pass for cute, even, if he'd been anyone but him. That glint in his eyes turned mischievous, and it made her heart race a little, disloyally betraying every other fiber in her body in so doing. "If anyone is, it's you, O'Connell. I'm having a great time. And I thought you said your problem was with me smiling. Smiling is sociable, isn't it?"

"Not the way you're doing it. Backing me into a corner like this."

"We're in the middle of the room," he said, eyes darting around behind her, as if to prove to himself he was right.

"Well, there's this column behind me. And a lot of people around. And anyway, the point is less that I'm cornered and more that you're being creepy and quiet, even if you're smiling. Look, it's a _party_ tonight. You can't stand around like a misanthropic mute all night. And if you're going to, well, then I'm going to go talk to some other, more normal people for awhile."

He took a step closer, breaking eye contact a moment as he moved, looking up at the ceiling. Probably he was trying to marshal his thoughts into some kind of a comeback, she figured. He wasn't just behaving oddly, he was standing oddly, too, one arm pinned awkwardly, unmoving against his side. "I just saw you standing back here, getting hot chocolate, and I thought I'd come say hi. You really gonna be mad at me for that?"

"If what you actually did was said hi and you weren't just staring at me, no. But you're acting strange. Your social skills are - as always - lacking. Which is a generous way of putting it." 

"Hey, give me a break," he said, looking a little hurt but no less mischievous. "I don't want to fight tonight. Truce? It's my first Christmas party. I'm in uncharted territory and doing my best without any experience." 

"Okay, okay... Just pretend it's a Hanukkah party, if that'll make you more affable - easier to deal with."

"People don't really have 'Hannukah parties'. And Hannukah ended already. I put my menorah away last weekend and everything," he said, eyes leaving hers for a split second again, casting up towards the ceiling again before returning, looking shifty and nervous. He took another half step closer.

" _What_?" What was his deal tonight? He was asocial, sure, but not normally so odd and shifty. 

"What what?"

"You keep looking at me funny, that's what. Do I have something on my face? In my hair? Tell me."

"No. I was...uh...it's nothin'...just, well, like I said, I've never done Christmas before. So I don't know all the ins and outs and rules and protocol and... all of that."

"Fleischman, it's not complicated. You wish people a Merry Christmas, you buy a present for the people you really like, and you try to be a nice person to everyone else. You have a little cocoa, drink a little wine, relax, chat with people, and try to make it a jovial night."

"Oh I'm trying to, believe me. Holling even spiked my cocoa before." He pulled his hand out from behind his back. "But, while we're on the subject of presents..." He held a small, wrapped gift out towards her with a shy smile. _That_ 's why he was being so jumpy and standing so awkwardly.

She eyed the box in his hand suspiciously. "What is it?"

"A present. I thought that was pretty clear, with the wrapping paper and the bow and everything."

"Yeah, but...no..." She looked at the gift and then at his face. He looked so sweet and sincere. And cute. Damn it, that was twice now that notion had polluted her consciousness. She banished it and forced her eyes quickly back to the gift. "I meant, what's _in_ it?"

"Well, like I said, I'm no expert on Christmas, but I'm operating under the assumption that it works the same way as birthday presents and that the point is to find out what's inside when you unwrap it at home later." He extended his hand and the gift he held in it a few inches closer to her, offering it a little more timidly than he had before, like there was an outside chance she might as easily bite his hand off as take the gift from it. He wasn't wrong to be wary, given their history. "It only works if you take it, though."

"Well...well, thanks, Fleischman," she said, feeling suddenly flustered, both at his uncharacteristically thoughtful gesture and at not having any gift of her own to reciprocate with. The paper was gaudily patterned, but she couldn't really blame him for that. She recognized it from Ruth Anne's store. She was a sweet lady, but her taste in paper was a little garish. After a few seasons of disappointingly parlous choice there, Maggie usually made a point to buy less tacky paper in Juneau. 

Even hamstrung by the paper, she could tell he'd wrapped the gift very carefully, with crisp corners and the tape up on the sides placed just so, exactly parallel to the box's edges. He'd even taken the time to curl the ends of the red and green contrasting ribbon crisscrossing the top with a pair of scissors. And here she stood, empty handed. She took the box from him tentatively with her right hand. "You really didn't need to get me anything. The thing is, though, I, uh..."

"You didn't get me anything." He sounded matter-of-fact, at least, and not disappionted. 

"Well..."

"S'okay. I'll live." His eyes left hers again for a moment, flickering back up to the ceiling and then down again. _Damn_. What if it turned out he actually had feelings and she might have actually hurt them just now by not having a gift for him? Not that she should care... But having the tables turned like that, that she didn't like. And him having the upper hand. His feelings she was indifferent to. Right? _Right_. She tried to come up with a new topic - something to criticize that could become his fault, to divide guilt more equally between them. His eyes returned to hers from their ever-more-frequent journeys to the ceiling.

"Okay, what _are_ you looking at? You keep doing that." He smiled bigger, looking not one bit guilty. And didn't answer her question. Sigh. Her usual blameshifting wasn't working. She'd have to let him be the bigger person for once. There we go. And _that_ 'd be his present, then - her magnanimousity. "Look, Fleischman, I'm sorry about having nothing for you. Honest. I didn't think you'd be celebrating with everyone, is the thing. You don't celebrate Christmas. And Ruth Anne said you didn't even come to this thing last year. So I just figured..."

"Uh huh. It's fine. Promise. Where's Rick tonight?"

"What?" What the hell did he have to do with anything? 

"You know, Rick. Pilot. Tall guy you're sleeping with. Where might he be this evening?"

"Oh. Seattle. Family. Christmas." Why couldn't she speak in complete sentences all of a sudden? Was it the same thing that made her heart speed up again - Joel, asking about Rick's whereabouts, all while standing so close, being inexplicably thoughtful and friendly and cheerful and cute? Ugh. _Three_ times now...

"Huh." That 'huh' sounded awfully smug. Okay, so technically, Rick hadn't asked her along home with him. It didn't matter. She had plans in Grosse Pointe anyway. And they weren't like that, she and Rick. Not that it was Joel's business.

"And what's _that_ supposed to mean?" Her irritation just made him smile more and his dimple show. She squelched a fourth round of thinking _that_ thought.

"It just means 'huh'. That's all. Really." Another glance just above her head and the twinkle came back to his eyes. "Remember how I told you I've never been to a Christmas party before?"

"Yes. And if you keep acting strange like this, you'll never get invited to another one again."

He took another step towards her. He was very, very close to her. Much closer than he needed to be. The room was crowded, but not _that_ crowded. For her part, her back was now against the column that had previously been a foot behind her. 

"I just meant, that you can hardly get mad at me if this breaks some rule I don't know about or if I do it wrong, then, right?" Another quick movement of his eyes upward.

"If you do _wha_ -"

He cut her off - and surprised the hell out of her - by closing the small distance still between them and kissing her. _Really_ kissing her. Not a quick peck on the cheek or fleeting, friendly little hello where his mouth glanced briefly against hers. No, this was a full tilt, no holds barred, arms wrapped around her shoulders, heads angled slightly sideways, chests pressed together _kiss_ kiss. A gentle but insistent assault upon her lips by his. She almost lost her grip on his gift and her empty mug in her initial shock. But after that...

Well, after that's where things got a little fuzzy, if she was being totally honest about it. Somehow, somewhere along the line, something short-circuited in her brain and her body decided it liked this development very much and actually reciprocated, kissing him back. And not just that but she wrapped both arms around him, too, still gripping the present in one hand and the handle of her mug in the other. His wool sweater felt scratchy against the skin of her wrists, but his lips were so soft, moving against hers. She remembered thinking at one point that they kissed just like they argued - totally focused on the task, never yielding an inch to the other one, and enjoying the hell out of every second they were doing it. She could feel him smiling against her lips and could taste the cocoa he'd said he had earlier on his lips. She remembered a fleeting moment of worry that, for the rest of her life, she'd never drink another drop of hot chocolate without thinking of this moment. And how she'd be completely fine with that. Only much later on that evening did she realize that Rick had never once crossed her mind, while kissing Joel.

Eventually, they stopped, she and Joel. She knew that for a fact. Problem was, she had no idea how long it had gone on before they did, other than that they were both out of breath and his cheeks were flushed pink. Hers, too, probably. They certainly felt warm. When he did finally pull back, it wasn't far, and she could see he was clearly focusing on not appearing as dazed as he obviously felt, so she quickly tried to look madder than she was shocked. And exultant.

"What was _that_ for?" she managed eventually. His hands had dropped to her waist and hers from his shoulders, but they were still standing very close. 

"Two reasons, O'Connell," he said, as his smug swagger mostly returned and that infernally sly grin back in place. "One, you told me to try to have a more festive, more social, and more jovial time. So I took your advice. And two..." He smirked as his eyes drifted upwards again, to where he'd been sneaking glances their whole conversation. "Because you're standing right under some mistletoe."

"Oh," she said, realization dawning on her - and much slower than it normally did. _That's_ what he'd been staring at all this time. "I am?"

"Yeah." His eyes twinkled, and she knew before he spoke that the next sentence would be a parry. "Figured you'd done it on purpose when you saw me. And so I thought I might as well oblige you." That self-satisfied attitude finally and fully rekindled her indignance. 

"Fleischman, I did _no such thing_. And for your information, a quick peck is really all it takes, with this. You don't go at it like two teenagers necking in the back row at the movies just 'cause there's a little mistletoe somewhere. And you certainly don't do it like that with _me_!"

"Oh," he said, not looking the least bit chagrined or sorry. He leaned in and kissed her once more quickly, chastely, still not dropping his hands from her waist when he had finished. "So something more like that then?"

"Yeah," she breathed, feeling a little dazed. Boy, he was really close to her still. If her thoughts during that first kiss hadn't been terrifying enough, her body's reaction to his lips' brief visit back to hers was. And her brain's. She'd subconsciously leaned into him this time and then actually felt disappointed that he'd done it 'right' this time. Shit. This was bad. As was the fact that he was reading her like a book right now and probably knew what she was thinking. Time to sober up and deflect. Fast. "Wait, _no_. And I think you've more than filled your quota where mistletoe is concerned, Fleischman. I cannot _believe_ you just did that. Here. With me. Twice."

"I told you, this is all Greek to me, this Christmas stuff. I appreciate your guidance, though. And in the spirit of the holidays, I'll refrain from pointing out that it takes two to tango." He gave her sides a quick squeeze as he took his hands away, and the look he shot her as he did just then wasn't fair. She worked to squelch a fifth round of admitting an attraction. "Merry Christmas, O'Connell."

"Uh huh." She gave him as much of a scowl as she could manage. That was... fun. Surprisingly fun. _Too_ fun. He was a very, very, _very_ good kisser. Not that that information mattered to her in the least bit. Or that he needed to know she thought that. "Well...well, you too, Fleischman. Have a nice night."

"See ya, O'Connell." He gave her another grin, turned, and disappeared into the crowd at the Brick. She looked around guiltily, feeling very conspicuous about what just happened in the middle of an extremely crowded room. No one seemed to be paying her an ounce of attention or behaving like they'd witnessed that scandalous little moment between she and Joel, thank God. Now, if she could just make _herself_ forget that it had happened, well, all would be well again. Boy, though, could he ever kiss... 

As reality started to filter back in and she calmed, she became aware again of the chatter and the Christmas music still playing softly. She tried to focus on those sounds instead of Joel Fleischman kissing her. How'd that even happen, anyway? She _would_ stand right under some mistletoe right as he showed up. Damn. She took a few steps forward and craned her neck up to cast an angry look at the infernal little shrub responsible for this, presumably smirking down at her from its perch atop the column behind her. Yup, there it sat, in a little red foil-wrapped pot, looking smugly oblivious to the sins it had wrought forth just now. She narrowed her eyes at the damn thing that had sowed the idea of kissing Joel inside her brain and turned her evening upside down like this. Only...wait a minute...

"Fleischman! That's a _poinsettia_!"


End file.
